Jan 2
Well. Let me try to get it all down.
New years’ eve/drawn to the Kentucky River/cross the bridge/on to Mercer County/turn into Shaker Village. The falls were dry, the moon was slightly less than full. I just keep coming back to this Clift path where a valley splits and spills into the river. Turning around to follow it back up to the cows, like a seam coming back together.
Jan 8
I remember the sunset in northern ohio, where a day of gloom broke into a fiery sunset, splaying gold all over the land, forcing drivers to squint and raise their hands to the zealous rays. Jake pointed out the interstate-side beeches which hold on to their leaves–I see them still here, as we blast through Alabama. It started raining and the fog is hanging over these southern woods.
Jan 9
Woke early this morning, 6:30, to catch my first louisiana dawn. I broke into a half-assed run along a pebbly ochre road, where i spotted a white tailed deer which leapt in an arc as it crossed the road. I stopped by a shreddy redcedar, picked off a prickly needle, inhaled that minty astringency.
Sunshine streams out the blue sky–just before 9 o clock, i hear the cry triumphant of fowl off in the woods.
Knot in the plank, lovers we thank/The sweetheart i’ll build my future with/Time passes to reveal the batholith/Grackle on the windowsill of the house across the alley/Songs of wind and driving rain tonight tear through the valley
Dark out now, outside the peepers sing their frantic steady song. I sat outside before dinner for an hour, reading, drawing til the fiery crown fell from the pine canopy and the eye of the sun disappeared beyond the swampy pond. After dinner I went back out and saw the stars up in the Louisiana sky. Stumped by the mystery of these pines.
Jake’s stubbly face in the dim light of the parking lot behind his columbus apartment. Some things will never be the same once a phase of time passes. The realization is at once sad, enlightening, and relieving.
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